


Oh, Where Have You Been, Billy Boy?

by MLMDarkFiction



Category: Black Christmas (1974)
Genre: Hospitals, M/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Transman Reader - Freeform, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-01-31 11:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18590647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MLMDarkFiction/pseuds/MLMDarkFiction
Summary: You've taken the newly vacant position as head nurse of The Ontario Criminal Institute, a hospital to take care of and study the criminally mentally ill. One of the patience under your care happens to be the infamous Billy Lenz, a man who was caught one year after highhandedly destroying an entire sorority brutally. All you want is to give Billy, and the other patients at the Institute, the help and care they seem to have been seriously lacking under the direction of the last head nurse.





	1. Chapter 1

There’s lots of reasons to be excited for starting your new job. It pays better, it has better benefits, and most importantly is closer to your home. Really, there’s only one major downfall about your new job, the patients. You’re going from being an Extensive Care nurse to a nurse in a facility holding the criminally insane. Before you rarely had any conscious patients to deal with, but now you’d be thrusted into a world of not only awake, but highly dangerous patients. 

 

The thing is, you feel a lot of sympathy for these individuals. After all, criminals or not, they’re sick. And sick people need care. That was the main thing that drove you to take the job, not the extra pay or the benefits, that’s all nice of course, but more than anything you wanted to  _ help _ people. 

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” 

 

Sergei, your boyfriend of the last five years, hovers nervously behind you as you dress in your scrubs, ready for the first actual day on the job. He’s been against your decision to go work at the Ontario Criminal Institute since the very beginning, you’d thought he’d gotten more used to the idea, but obviously not. 

 

“It will be fine, Serg.” While you appreciate his concern, he as always, comes off a bit too strong. You wish he would understand that you’re not only capable of taking care of yourself, but capable of making your own complex decisions as well. “Besides, today is just to get the feel of things. Mrs.Macaty will be there the whole time to show me the ropes.”

 

You’ve not yet met Mrs.Macaty in person. What you know of her mostly comes from the phone calls you had over the phone, and what the head of staff at the institute had told you during your initial job interview. Mrs.Macaty was the head nurse for the institute, and had worked there for many years before finally deciding a few months ago to put in her retirement. Before she left the Institute for good she promised to show you what will be expected of you. 

 

“I love you,” You press your lips to Sergei’s stumbled cheek as you make your way to grab your car keys. “You really need to shave.” With that you’re out the door. 

 

-

The drive to work is about as nice as you’d expected. Most of the trip was regular early morning commute and traffic, but about half way the scenery changes. You go up through the mountains for twenty minutes before you catch sight of the Institution. 

 

It’s a huge intimidating building. But it doesn’t scare you nearly as bad as it had during the time of your first interview. Still, even as your observe the heavily secure building, you find yourself doubting if you can really ever get used to working in such a gloomy place. You catch the humor in it. No, you’re not afraid (at least not outside the healthy realm) of your new job, that’s easy to adjust to, no the thing you’re having trouble coping with is the gloomyness of the facility. 

 

It’s laughable. You muse to yourself about all of this as you park in the visitors entrance, and walk your way to the first set of doors accompanied by a matching set of metal detectors.  Although it’s unlikely any of the patients actually have visitors coming to see them, it’s nice of the hospital to even allow visitation. 

 

“There you are,” Speaks a little old woman, shrunken with age, her hair in a high bun, and what you can only manage to describe as a friendly scowl taking her face. “You’ve last the first test.” The guard to her right hands you back your car keys, but not before telling you to place them in your locker. 

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll show the boy the ropes.”

 

“So you’re Mrs.Macaty I’m assuming?” On your face is your best professional smile as you extend your hand out to her, but it seems she has no desire to shake your hand in turn. In fact she stairs at it for several silent awkward moments until you allow your hand to fall back to your side. The awkward silence makes you uncomfortable but thankfully after only another moment of her scruntinizing stare she clears he throat and finally leads you away from the main visitors entrance.

 

“This here’s the locker room. You can dress here in the morning if you don’t wanna wear your scrubs to work. There’s also lockers. You’ll be gettin’ one of your own today, all personal items, and sharp things like your keys go in there.”

 

It’s a decently sized space, the lockers lining the walls in a way that reminds you more of a high school locker room than anything else. With what little you can make out of coats and uncomfortable looking shoes left behind, you would guess the majority of your new coworkers would appear to be women. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, in fact it’s quite common in the nursing field, you had just hoped given the circumstance there may be some more male nurses than you are used to. It’s always a bit isolated to be one of the very few male nurses in a hospital. 

 

“Now, before we get started, do you have any questions?” 

 

“Oh- Um,  no ma’am.”

 

“Good, come on then.”

  
  


Mrs.Macaty shows you the ropes. You watch as she gathers medication for the patience on her part of the ward, and follow behind her as she gives them to the patients. 

 

“Use a tongue depressor to make sure they took them, and be carefully, some of the nasty fuckers spit.” 

 

The way she treats patients makes you upset, but you do your best to cope with it, all smiles and nodding, just wanting to get through the day. You try to give her the benefit of the doubt. You try to imagine how taxing it must be for he to have done this everyday for so many years. 

 

She leads you to a door and then stops. “This man, this man will be the bane of your very existence as you work here.”

 

“Isn’t that a bit of an…” 

 

A bit of an exaggeration is what you were going to ask her, but you trailed off as you see the patient name displayed on the door.

 

Billy Lenz. 

 

The first patient whose name you actually recognize. You knew about the case, at least a little bit, about the sorority girls he’d murdered a year before he was caught, about the phone calls he made to his victims, how he was eventually caught because of the calls. 

 

You remembered that case. You remembered it because you were in college yourself at the time, far away from the sorority, but at the time it had reminded you of an incident from when you were in high school. At the time you had felt such sympathy for his victims, and a deep fear that you could have easily been a victim as well. It was an overreaction by far. The calls you’d gotten in your senior year of high school on the family phone were nothing like the nasty calls those poor girls had gotten, it was just repeated calls of nothing but deep uncomfortable breathing. 

 

Mrs.Macatay knocks on the door first, opening the sliding compartment to speak. 

 

“Are you  _ decent _ Billy?” 

There’s no response,

 

“He hardly talks,” She tells you beginning to unlock the door. “Well he talks, but he never says anything worth listening to.”

 

You nod, mouth feeling like it’s filled with cotton, still caught up in your fears of a possible high school stalker. When the door is open, when you see Billy, a pathetic looking man, thin, and glaring at both you and Mrs.Macatay from beneath the locks of matted hair that covered his face. 

 

Pity. You feel pity for the man. It’s obvious from his appearance alone that he’s not been getting the basic care he deserves, the basic care the facility is supposed to  _ guarantee _ it’s patients. 

 

When Mrs.Macatay approaches, paper cup full of pills in hand, Billy reacts violently. He hisses at her, dropping from his bed, and backing up against the wall. 

 

It’s obvious to see he doesn’t like her. He’s trembling, and it’s that feeling again, that pity that entices you to act. 

 

“Mrs.Macatay, would you mind if I gave Billy his medicine?” 

 

Both parties stop, their attention on you. 

 

“I watched you give the other patients their meds, and this will be my job from here on out, right?”

 

She eyes Billy warily, but nods backing up as she makes her way toward you. That’s another thing about this job, to never turn your back to the patients, lest you open yourself up for a possible attack. 

 

“Billy,” Mrs.Macatay speaks the way your teachers regarded problem students, aggressive and authoritative. “This is ____, he’s going to be your new nurse.”  

 

“Hi Billy, it’s nice to meet you.” 

 

He’s curious as you approach, his head is tilted, and although he stays scurried towards the back of the room and continues to tremble he doesn’t hiss at you, or lash out. 

 

“Can you take your meds for me Billy?” You offer the paper cup to him, shocked by how quickly he snatches it from you. Despite his speed it gave you time to see his hands, nails bitten into bloody quicks, scratches on his arms and wrist. He wasn’t being taken care of at all.

 

Anger rises quickly in your throat, and you force it down. It would be different, with you in charge, you’d make sure the patients were all taken care of properly. That they got the help and care they desperately needed. 

 

Billy takes the pills dry, or at least seems to. You’re relieved he’s behaving, after the way Mrs.Macatay had acted.

 

“Can I check your mouth Billy, to make sure you’ve taken them all?”

 

He hesitates, but nods moving closer to you. You barely catch it, the tail end of a murmured whisper hushed out by the scuffling of his clothes. 

 

“ _ -pretty little mouth- _ “

 

Billy opens his mouth and even lifts his tongue for you. There’s no need to use the tongue depressor much to your relief.  Any reason to not get close to a patient’s mouth is acceptable in your book. The last thing you needed on your first day of work is to come home with stitches and a bite mark. You’re sure Sergei would just be thrilled with you, and your new job if that happened. 

 

“Thank you Billy.” 

 

You back up slowly, making your way to join Mrs.Macatay by the door. “We’ll be back later today okay?”

 

“Was...Was  _ Billy _ a good boy?” 

 

He catches you off guard with the question. You almost stop in your tracks. He seems lucid enough, at least right now, and the meds will help keep him that way. It just surprises you to hear him speak in third person like that. 

 

There’s a click of disapproval, or maybe disgust, from Mrs.Macatay behind you, and you fight the urge to frown at her behavior. 

 

But you don’t. You don’t frown, you don’t stop moving. You show no reaction to the sudden questioning or to Mrs.Macatay’s unprofessoinal behavior. Your caretakers smile remains on your face as you respond. 

 

“Yes Billy, you were a very good boy today. Thank you for being good for me and taking your medications.” 

 

The door to Billy’s room closes, and you let out a long held breath. Professionalism drops, along with your forced caring smile. That was stressful. 

 

Mrs.Macatay and yourself are only just beginning to walk a way, pushing the medicine cart along with you, when you hear Billy again.

 

“ _ Bye, bye, pretty nursie… _ ”

 

And looking back you see him. Billy is looking at you through the metal sliding compartment Mrs.Macatay had left open, one green eye visible to stare at your retreating forms. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reflect on your first day at work, and return for your second day where you have your first one on one interaction with the infamous Billy Lenz.

There’s not much you can do on your first day of work, but it’s hard to do so with the presence of Mrs.Macatay. Cleaning up the patients themselves isn’t your job, but if the other nurses aren’t going to…

 

You come home from your first day at the new job incredibly frustrated, but more invigorated in your purpose than before. 

 

Sergei’s still at work by the time you return home, and so you take a nice bath, soaking in the warm water while you reflect over your day. The conditions in that place where appalling for such a facility. You just keep thinking back to when you saw Billy’s bloodied nails and scratches, and his disheveled hair. It was disgraceful. Billy was the patient who stood out in your mind, because of everyone he was in the worse condition. It reflected in Mrs.Macatay’s disdain for the man as well. 

 

You’re determined that tomorrow you’ll spend your time in between organizing the nurses stations and shifts to clean up some of the patients. Haircuts, shavings, and making sure that any wounds they have are disinfected and cleaned. 

 

Slinking into the warm water you think more about the past. When you’d gotten the job you hadn’t realized Billy Lenz was going to be a patient. Everyone knew about what had happened, and it caused fear in Universities across the country. 

 

Even classmates of your own had been frightened, and then there were the copycats. 

 

You sink further into the water. 

  
It was a bad time for everyone.    
  
+

 

Suddenly you’re in High School again, a fresh faced seventeen year old fresh on hormones, and making your way through the best (and worst) years of your life.  

  
The calls had started around Homecoming. Mid September, the Thursday before a football game. 

 

You heard the ringing of the landline from your room. You’d been relaxing, listening to the radio while sketching in your notebook instead of working on your essay paper. At first you weren’t bothered. There was only one phone in your home, and you think both your parents would beat you silly if you brought up the phone bill too high. 

 

That’s why you’re surprised when your mom answering the phone, followed immediately by the sound of her calling your name.

 

Immediately your first thought is that you’re in trouble for something at school, although you have no idea what it could be for, and despite your anxiety you call back down.

 

“Yeah Mum?”

 

“Phone! Hurry up and get down here! It’s some kid from your school!”

 

Although your confusion only mounts, you’re down the stairs in a flash though, not wanting to get in trouble. More so, you don’t know why or how someone from your school would be calling you. 

 

“Don’t take too long now,”

 

Your mother passes the phone to you, giving you a swat on the back of the head before making her way back to the kitchen. 

  
“Hello?” You hold the hard plastic to your ear, expecting to hear...at least something on the other end of the line, but instead...there’s nothing. No sound at all. 

 

“Hel-Hello?” This time your voice breaks a little, having still not fully stopped changing thanks to your testosterone. 

 

It’s now you get a response though. It’s slight. A sound like someone gasping on the other end of the phone, but no actual words. 

  
“I’m going to hang up-” You warn, quickly growing annoyed with the caller, knowing it’d be your ass getting in trouble for their stupid prank call. 

 

“Don’t!”

  
+

 

You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of your cell phone ringing. It scares you out of you memory, and you hiss at the overspill of water from your tub. Reaching across you grab the device, answering the phone. 

 

“Hello?”   
  
“Hey babe? I’m going to be late home tonight.” 

 

“Oh.” 

  
It’s hard, but you try not to let your disappointment seep into your voice. Part of the reason you had quite your previous job as an extensive care nurse was the hope that the more stable hours would, eventually, lead to more time with your boyfriend.

  
Although not surprising, it is disappointing. Especially when Sergei had already promised to cook you dinner tonight. 

 

“I’m sorry- I really am. Work is just...They need me here tonight.” 

 

“I understand.” 

 

You don’t. It sucks. You’re angry, but you’ve grown used to it, and used to being the bigger man in the relationship.    
  
“Can you at least order me take out? Since you can’t make dinner.”

  
“...I left my wallet at home.” 

 

“Right. Fine, don’t worry about it.”

 

With a nice relaxing bath now ruined, you get out and dry off, afterwards ordering Chinese takeout from your favorite restaurant. 

 

You deserve it. First day at a new job, boyfriend blowing you off, you deserve this. You deserve nice things. 

 

You spend the night alone. Eating takeout, and watching a movie on TV until you’re tired, and then when you’re done heading to bed, where you, for the fourth night in a row, sleep alone. 

 

When you wake up the next morning, Sergei is there, in bed. You don’t bother waking him. A mix between upset at him for canceling plans, and not wanting to listen to him try and dissuade you from your job as you go throw your morning routine. 

 

He’s still asleep when you finally head out the door. 

 

Going through security is much easier this time, now that you’ve done it twice and know what to expect. With your keys and wallet safely tucked away in the locker you finally get to start your day. 

 

While going through medication files you find that Billy Lenz had been given a sedative the night before. However, despite the medication being listed on file there’s no incident report. 

 

Surely there’s still a night nurse who’s yet to leave. It doesn’t take you long to find one, and call her to your office. 

 

When she enters she looks tired, and annoyed. You don’t blame her. You’re sure she wants to go home and sleep, but if you’re going to implement changes in patient care you have to start now. There’s no room for slacking. 

 

“Hi. I’m sorry,” You tell her, “this will just take a second I promise. I saw that last night someone administered Billy Lenz with a sedative, but there’s no incident report or anything saying why, and looking back previously it’s not listed as one of his regular medications. Do you know why he was given the medicine?”

 

Her expression doesn’t change. 

 

“I don’t know why Lenz was given the medicine, or who it was who decided to give it to him. It should say in the report-”   
  
“Well it doesn’t.” You interrupt. “Because there is no report.”

 

“Then I can’t help you.” 

 

“Right, well then, have a good day.” Forcing your most polite smile, you watch the woman go, waiting until she’s left your office before letting out a large sigh. 

 

It’s doubtful she was lying to you, but you really wish she wouldn’t have had such an attitude. After a moment of just sitting in your office, thinking to yourself  

 

There’s no point in dwelling. The past is the past, but change starts now. 

 

You get an empty cart together, fill it with the things you’ll need. Safety razors, scissors, a bowl of water, soap, and a few other essential cleanliness items. With everything ready you go to your first stop. Billy Lenz. 

 

He needed it. You’d seen yesterday, the way his hair was tangled, and uncomfortable looking stubble. Not to mention, if he’s lucid enough, you may be able to ask him about what had transpired the night before that resulted in him being drugged. 

 

Knocking on the door, unsurprisingly gets you know response. Based on the dosage listed on file, it’s likely he’s still asleep. With no response, you open the small hatch meant for food and other such small items to check. Billy is asleep, curled in the floor as he’d been the day before when you’d met him. 

 

You wonder what it is with him and sleeping on the ground. Perhaps you’ll ask him. 

“Billy?” 

 

There’s no response, or shifting from the body. 

 

Worried. With a sigh you open the heavy duty door. Billy still doesn’t seem awake. The only thing keeping you from completely panicking is the rising and falling of his chest, for a moment you were afraid that perhaps he’d had a reaction to the drug, but he’s breathing.

 

Slowly you make your way too him, the cart pressed towards the back of the room until you had him awake and fully present. 

 

“Billy...I need you to wake up now Billy.” Hesitantly, you slowly reach out to shake him. It’s not the best idea. You’re not so much afraid of Billy but his reaction. He’s mentally ill, and you’re new, not only new but in his space. It’s a dangerous situation for you. 

 

He freezes under your touch when you shake him, a good sign. He mumbles. You can not only hear the sound of it, although not able to actually make out what it is he’s saying, and feel the vibrations from his chest. 

  
“Hi Billy.” 

 

His eyes open slowly, and he stays frozen and stiff. First staring at you, and then his eyes wildly flicking around you. 

 

“Do you remember me? I met you yesterday with Mrs.Macatay.”   
  
“Nursie…” His voice is hoarse, and quiet. 

 

“That’s right Billy!” 

 

You’re relieved he seems to recognize you. It’s a good sign, and means you likely won’t have to deal with any post medication confusion. 

 

With some difficulty you set him up against the wall, and he lets you. Neither helping, nor hindering your process to sit him up. 

 

“Here, let me get you a glass of water.” 

 

You return to your cart you left by the door, grabbing a glass before going back to Billy’s side. He downs it immediately, almost choking in his hurry to drink down the water. Hesitantly you reach out, soothingly rubbing his back. 

  
It’s against protocol really, you’re not supposed to be touching the patients outside of regular care needs, but you also don’t want him choking, and hopefully you’re ministrations will remind him to slow down and not suffocate. 

 

“There you go, here, come on. I can get you another glass if you want?” 

 

He doesn’t respond, fingers curled around the glass. Carefully you reach for it, hands placed over top of his own. They’re incredibly cold. You make a mental note to turn up the thermostat for his room. 

 

Slowly you uncurl his fingers from around the glass. Taking it from him completely. When you’re moving to place the cup back on the cart, an icy hand reaches out grabbing your own.

 

It takes you off guard. Immediately you’re worried that he’s going to  _ hurt  _ you. You know the realization of the situation, of who Billy is. 

 

“B-Billy?” Your voice cracked in fear. 

 

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but he also doesn’t make any sudden moves. He starts to laugh, cackling almost, but it doesn’t gain in volume, he keeps it down under his breath. You’re frightened, and pull yourself free from Billy’s grasp. Once again he doesn’t fight you, letting you take your hand back, and only watching as you move towards the door and your cart. 

 

“I’ll be back Billy, just-just stay there.”

 

The door slams behind you as you leave. It’s an accident, you don’t mean to slam it, but your anxiety is just too high. 

 

You’ll take care of other patients first, and then come back, when you’re calmer, to cut Billy’s hair, and tend to his wounds. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can reference other things in my fics even if it doesnt make sense because i make the rules. thank you.

With the incident of Billy grabbing your wrist in mind you spend the rest of your rounds being just as a courtesy as your job allows, currently too frightened to go beyond protocol. 

 

Every once in a while you’ll stop what it is you’re doing, eyes lingering down to the skin of your wrist, it’s like you expect to see a bruise forming there. But you never do. 

 

It’s not as if you would bruise from something like that, Billy hadn't grabbed you hard at all, more than anything it hurt your psyche more than your physicality. 

 

The rest of your rounds go without any further incident. 

 

Currently you’re cleaning up the face of a patient, you’d managed to shave away his long access beard, and now you were using a warm cloth to free him of any leftover shaving cream or hair. 

  
The patient, a man close to his 60’s, Eddie, is far more lucid than Billy had been. Attempting to make personal conversation with which you ignored with all the natural politeness you’ve been trained to. 

 

“There, now you’re all set. Don’t you feel better?”

 

Eddie continue to ignore your actual conversation attempts. It seems he’s the type with whom doesn’t want your conversation unless it pertains to exactly what it is he wants to talk about.

 

You’re gathering up your things, the bowl of water, and the shaving cream when you hear it. 

 

“You whore! You’re married? You didn’t tell me you were married!” 

 

There’s no time to reflect on the fact, the man’s hands are wrapped around your throat tightly squeezing. 

  
“Slut, whore!” 

 

Your hands grip violently at his own, nails digging into his flesh as you attempt to pry the hands away from suffocating you. All you do is leave bloody scratches, having no where near the power needed to free yourself, although your desperate attempts do let you see just what it is that sets Eddie off.

 

Your ring. It’s not actually a wedding ring, or even an engagement ring. The symbolism is far more innocent than that, the ring was simply a gift, and one that only fit on your ring finger. Wearing jewelry isn’t allowed. It’s a rule you knew, and had followed the previous days, but it must have slipped your mind today.

 

So really, it’s your fault that the patient lashed out. 

 

The irony of your last thoughts being ones that might excuse your killers outburst hits you, but thankfully they don’t come true. 

 

Eddie was making enough of a ruckus with his yelling, still just insults of calling you a whore or a slut, that it had gotten the attention of the guards. 

 

One pulls Eddie off of you, managing just barely to keep him at bay while one of the nurses administer something to calm Eddie down, while the other guard helps you to your feet. 

 

It’s hard. You’re barely able to stand, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, and struggling to keep your shaking knees up. Noticing this the guard all but carries you out of the room, and down the hall. 

 

The sound of Eddie’s yelling already growing softer between the distance put between the two of you, and no doubt the effect of the medication kicking in.

 

You’re trembling as you’re brought back do your office and finally able to stand on your own. 

  
“Stay here,” The guard tells you. His tone is firm, and annoyed, and he carries an aura of superiority around him. 

 

If not for your current state, you’d honestly be offended, and perhaps even say something. 

 

“You need to be checked out by a doctor.”

 

The first thing you do when the guard leaves, is to slip the ring from your finger and into your pocket. 

  
After all, as small a chance as it is, you don’t want to get in trouble for this incident. 

 

+

 

It hurts to talk. Your throat is still sore as you tell the doctor everything that had happened, minus the rings involvement. To your surprise, the doctor only reassures you. She explains that aside from some painful looking bruising that your neck is fine, and more than that, she tells you that Eddie is one of the more severe patients in the ward.

 

“It’s not your fault, what happened,” Her hands gently check over your throat, double and triple checking you’re alright. 

“Even on his best days, Mr.Gluskin isn’t anywhere near being stable, you understand? I’m sorry no one warned you before hand, but it’s better to always have a guard or two in his room with you just in case.”    
It’s almost relieving in a way. Despite feeling very much responsible, it does, in a way, make you feel better to know it’s likely that ring, or no ring, Eddie may have eventually snapped at you. And now you had learned a lesson and new better. 

  
On top of that, it wasn’t as if you were seriously harmed. 

 

No harm, no foul as they say. 

 

“Do you want to head home early?” The doctor asks, gathering her things to leave your office. “If you do I wouldn’t blame you, and it’s customary when these sorts of things happen, but ultimately the decision is yours.”

 

She’s right. The decision  _ is _ yours. And that’s why, ultimately, you decide to stay. Problems aside, you’re dedicated to doing this job right. 

 

“If you’re sure…” The Doctor seems surprised by your response, no doubt by the fact any other nurse in your shoes, head or not, would likely take the chance to go home after such an event and not even think about returning.

 

“Just have a guard with you for the rest of the day alright? If not for your own sake than for mine.” 

 

She’s a nice woman, and she seems to actually care for your well being, still, that doesn’t change your obvious distaste for the guard who’d brought you here, having saved you or not. So instead you simply nod.    
  


“Of course.” 

  
Even if you don’t intend on doing any such thing. 

 

However you do take your lunch before venturing out into the halls to continue your work. Making your way to the cafeteria to buy a cold sandwich which you then eat alone. You can see your reflection in the glass panes. Over the thirty minutes you take to eat the hand printed bruises begin to blossom up around your flesh, the red marks obviously matching those of the fingers that had tried so desperately to snuff out your life. 

 

There’s no hiding them for now. No scarves or any other form of cover up available to you now. You can only sigh at the thought of going home, and how Sergei will react. That is if he is  _ home _ , if he does  _ react _ .

 

You decide with a sigh, that you’ll buy some cover up at the store. You never saw yourself having to buy makeup before, but...As your cold fingers trace the handprints pressed into your skin, you suppose there’s a start for everything. 

 

+

 

Billy waits, and waits, and waits. He’s still lethargic from the drugs. He stays in the corner by his bed where you had left him, curled in on himself knees to his chest. Despite being drugged into submission he knows the hospital routine well. 

  
When you don’t come back he’s angry. 

 

Angrier still when a different nurse comes in your sted, attempting to get him to take his medication. He spits in her face, and earns a slap to his own. 

 

It’s like a switch is flipped. He’s absolutely feral now, movements still slowed as he growls and thrashes. Billy doesn’t bite her, but acts as if he’s going to. He can feel the spittle and drool running down his chin. 

 

The nurse isn’t afraid of Billy, or to put it differently, the nurse isn’t afraid to be rough with Billy. She shoves him back hard, his head smacks off the cold tile floor, and he feels himself giving into unconsciousness. 

 

“Fuckin’ animal!” 

 

+   
  


By the time you get back to checking on Billy it’s near the end of your shift. A separate nurse had been asked to cover your patients while you’d been seen by the Doctor. 

 

Although you could begin the process of clocking out and leaving now, you didn’t  _ want  _ to just leave. You’d promised Billy you’d return, and he still needed his haircut, and to be shaved. It was a promise. And you were going to keep it. 

 

Your knock is gentle, made with just the tips of your knuckles. Technically you should be allowed to enter a patient’s room without knocking, however you’ve never been the type to follow such rules. They seem like such an invasion of privacy, something that affects the patient-physician relationship, and makes actual healing that much harder. 

 

You wait to hear an okay from Billy, but it never comes. 

 

“Mr.Lenz?” 

 

Once again you knock, and once again you’re met with nothing in response.  

 

“If you don’t answer me I’m going to enter anyway, Mr.Lenz, is that alright?”

 

Nothing. Nothing but silence. 

 

“Alright, I’m coming in.”

 

The opening of the door is intentionally slow, you want to give Billy time to compose himself or prepare for your entrance if he needs it, despite the many warnings you’d already given. 

 

It quickly becomes obvious why there had been no response though. Your blood running cold as you see it, Billy on the ground of his room, beneath a puddle of his own blood. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was completely done and then mysteriously disappeared so...I had to rewrite it all. So as a result this chapter is much shorter than it originally was, and rewriting what I had planned was like pulling teeth. Hopefully the next chapter will come easily as it won't be rewriting past things.

Billy is, thankfully, okay. You make sure of that before anything else. He’ll have some bruising, a nasty scab on the back of his head, but ultimately, he’s lucky. Still he needs to be watched. He’s not yet out of the woods for having a possible concussion.

So that’s what you’re doing now.

The two of you are in a room, different than Billy’s usual. It’s likely he’ll stay here until the investigation is complete, and until they can clean his blood off of the floor.

You are the sole reason there’s an investigation to begin with.

The other hospital staff were more than happy to not look into it at all, willing to assume that Billy had bashed his own head into the floor.

Although the investigation ends as quickly as it had started. All it took was one look into the security camera’s for Billy’s room to see what had actually happened.

The nurse was at fault. The nurse had put her hands-on Billy.

Billy is awake in the bed, conscious but far from responsive.

Of course, you blame yourself. It wouldn’t have happened at all if you had been doing your job, if you weren’t reckless and got yourself choked.

Another lesson. Another incident to happen under your watch in your first couple of days.

Billy doesn’t seem to blame you though.

Although it’s hard to read anything from his expression as he looks at you in the bed beside him. He’s delirious, and tired.

A mix of the injury, and the morphine he’s on.

He’s staring on you, but it’s hard to tell if he’s really staring. It’s very likely he’s only looking at you because you’re the only thing of interest in the otherwise bland, white recovery room.

A soft knock gets your attention from the man though, and your eyes slide to the door.

One of the doctors opens the door, and he gives you a smile.

“Nurse ____,” He greets you, and then his tone turns a bit concerned. “You were supposed to head home two hours ago…”

The Doctor shakes his head.

“Come on, I’ll send another nurse in, you have to go home. We’re not paying you for overtime.”

And you relent. You can’t really argue. So, you nod, starting to gather your things.

“Billy?”

You turn to the patient and smile at him, it’s a soft but tense smile.

He doesn’t return it.

In fact, Billy turns away from you violently, rolling back, and forth on the bed before stopping. His back staying to you, staring straight at the wall instead now.

It’s a strange reaction. Close to a tantrum, but far from a violent acting out. Which is good. It’s progress, progress probably caused by his drugged state, but still progress.

“I’m leaving now Billy.”

There’s absolutely no acknowledgement from the man at all, but the doctor at least smiles at you when you pass him on the way out.

“Get some rest.”

He pats you on the shoulder as you leave.

You’re stressed. It’s been a stressful day.

You need cover up, something to hide the bruising on your neck from Sergei, and when you stop at the pharmacy to pick it up you also decide to buy a pack of wine coolers too. After all you’re going to be spending the night alone.

But…You don’t work tomorrow.

That means you’ll have at least a day to relax in your own home from everything that’s happened the day before. And if it’s anything like tonight you’ll be alone again.

-

Sergei isn’t home when you get home. It’s not surprising to you.

You put away your new things, taking one wine cooler from the case to take with you to your bath.

While stripping down to take your bath you pause briefly to look over your reflection. You look…tired. And you should all things considered.

Still the most concerning thing is the blooming bruises around your neck. It’s clear what’s happened, even if you try to deny it.   
  
Gently you reach out and touch the tender skin, watching yourself in the mirror as you do so. You imagine those hands choking you again, so intent on ending your life for something so little as forgetting to take off a ring.

Carefully you wrap your hands around your own throat and start to squeeze-

But your phone rings.

Pulling you from your odd distorted thoughts, pulling you away from whatever it is you’d been doing to yourself.  


End file.
